By: Lostwolfe
Triad

[title:triad]
[version:1.00, unbastardized]
[author:lostwolfe]
[mailto:greywolfe@new.co.za]
[date:eleven may, two thousand and six]
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[contents]
[triad]
[prologue]
[part one:winter]
[part two:not the father, nor the son, nor the spirit]
[i:toto in a store. kansas going bye-bye.]
[ii:first element of the puzzle, 1381]
[iii:the cab ride, father comes knocking]
[iv:second element of the puzzle, 1692]
[v:winter expounded, the light on at the dark house]
[vi:an older hunt, deep within the forest]
[vii:an altar, faith and reason given voice]
[part iii:winter revisited, the hardest thing is choice]
[epilogue:summer]
[author's note]
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[prologue]
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i got away.|at least - i thought i did. i came out from where he was
and ended in the white landscape. and it nearly killed me.
it /would/ have killed me if i hadn't found that place
between myth and reason. between belief and faith. that
timeless space.|but when i came back to the world - when i found my way
back through the door, it was nearly sixty years later.
everything was different. everything was wrong somehow.
when he'd caught me, i'd gone through to the place where he
existed and something had happened to time. maybe it had
bent. maybe i had stepped around it, whatever it was, when
i got back to the world, the world had changed, but some
things still stayed the same. he stayed the same, only
now - impossibly - i could feel his thoughts as part of my
thoughts. impossibly, i could tell where he was - and why
he was there.|he was going to come for another man. another man just
like me. another one right on the edge of faith and
reason.|he's out there. he's coming ever closer. and he has only
one goal in mind. myabe he's hunting me, but i don't think
so. i think i'm the one that got away with a little bit of
him. which isn't really the way it's meant to work. and
now...now he wants to correct the imbalance. he wants to
set the scales straight.|i don't have much time to decide what to do. maybe if i
deny him, he'll eventually die. if enough people like me
get away, what happens? does he vanish? does his legend
go with him?
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[one:winter]
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it's always winter somewhere.
it has to be. if it wasn't always winter somewhere, then
he wouldn't be able to go around. people's defenses drop
when winter comes around. they're too busy trying to keep
warm to notice him when he's there. and that's precisely
the way it should be. you should never notice him unless
it's time. and it's only really ever time once a year.
and then only for twenty four hours.|to you - to the humans - he's a myth. i know he's a myth,
because i lived among you once. it's a happy myth and it's
one i believed in for the longest time as well. well - the
happy part of the myth, anyway. it's much simpler to
believe a lie when it's a consensual lie, because so many
people share the lie that it becomes true.|but of course, every myth has it's origin in fact. in some
reality that must have existed to bring the myth into being.|as an example, every people under the sun have a creation
myth. they have to, otherwise they'd never adequately be
able to explain why they're there or what they're doing.
science has only recently begun to change how you humans
think about your humble beginnings. and even science, when
played correctly, is simlpy another myth. another magic
trick with beautiful lights and special effects. it's all
molecular at some level. and all molecules are simply
magical energy. but, of course, science doesn't see it
that way. and it's fine. you don't need to believe in
the myth of science.|i've lived in this place - the winter - too long to not
believe it. a long time ago, maybe in the thirteenth
century, where i come from, i could have argued the case.
could have told you that you were taking serious liberties.
but now...living in the winter, well...it changes things.|so, i clean up his rooms and take out his bedpan and make
him warm milk, because, you know...myth made solid is
science. and the hard science of the thing is that when
he puts his hand on my shoulder and requests something
extra in his warm milk, i comply.|and yes, of course, up until right now, i've been comliant
because - like you - i believed the happy myth. the myth
that suggested that he really was the way he's portrayed.
but science is like a cold shower. or, more accurately, it
would be more like going out into the winter from the
warmth of your house.|you see - i found something i wasn't supposed to. while i
was doing my chores, i found his diary. and now that i've
found it, i'm sitting in his great big easy chair, the fire
roaring in the hearth. the diary open on my lap and one of
his large glass steins in my small hand.|when the myth comes home, i will have some choice questions
to ask him. some hard, scientific, factual questions, but
just right now, he's out. just right now, if i understand
things correctly, he's collecting.|and, of course, in order to collect, he needs it to be
winter.|and it's always winter somewhere.
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[two:not the father, nor the son, nor the spirit]
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[i:toto in a store. kansas going bye-bye.]
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my name is ashentaine. most of my friends call me ash -
they decided on this nickname, i'm led to believe, because
i smoke a pipe. this doesn't surprise me. what surprises
me is that they haven't called me ash, the pokemon trainer
to my face. i suppose it must have something to do with
maturing. attaining girth and stature and a quiet kind of
warmth that they have all escribed as becoming-father-
like.|they have decided that - like it or not - i'm going to be
the father of my group. so now, instead of sitting quietly
by and - what else? - smoking my pipe as jay or eli or rez
discuss their lives in general, i'm finding taht they will
come to me - seek me out in my private capacity - and talk
to me one-on-one. asking me questions i never thought i'd
ever have the answers for.
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[date:twelve may, two thousand and six]
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part of why i've reluctantly taken the position at the helm
does have to do with me being older, but part of it is also
that enough has changed inside of me that i can taek over
from where leo left off. leo, who went off to work as a
programmer out in the wilds of california. we all miss
him - we all write to him and hear from him daily, but i
know, as we all do, that leo will never come back.|maybe leo has found what he's looking for in middle age.
i don't know. he never struck me as spiritual. not in
the way that, say jay is, but he must have found something
right, because the way he answers questions has changed -
and the way i hear his voice - it sounds different, but i
realize that that's kind of happening to me as well, in a
way i cannot adequately describe. and i've tried. one
night, out on the porch, i tried to get it across to
stephen. it didn't work. every time the words came out,
they were the wrong words. or the right words and the
wrong context. i don't think stephen had the vocabulary
to grasp it all, but that's ok, that's stephen and stephen
is from a different universe altogether. just the act of
trying to place it all made me feel better about it.|but things have changed. things have become more elastic,
not quite so black and white. more shades of grey. i
remember being much younger - eight or nine - and feeling
that potentially anything was possible - and it was,
because i could dream it so. as i got older, i remember
distinctly falling away from that faith and falling right
into that trap that most of us do. you don't believe in
the possible, you believe in the what is.|and that is how - at age thirty - belly spreading out,
arms thickening, pipe dangling from my mouth, i think i
can maybe begin to appreciate how i felt at age eight.
how leo now feels. like a boy at easter. with the
easter bunny made real, or at hallowe'en. like anything
is possible again.|some of this - some of my thoughts about how i'd moved
from an abundance of faith, to an absence of faith, to some
faith all over again - some of that is going through my
head as i'm walking in the store, trying to find something
for leo. trying to decide what would be most appropriate
for a programmer overlord who had mysteriously found his
way back home again.|and so - of course - i miss it when the big man puts his
hand on my shoulder and whispers my name.|i turn around, startled. under other circumstances, i
might be more laconic about it, but...today, i am
preoccupied and this man - this much larger man startles
me.|the first thing i notice about him isn't his size, though,
it is his eyes. they don't belong...here, in this time.
that's teh best way i can put it. he has a look to him
that suggests that he belongs somewhere else. some /time/
else.|"ash?" he whispers again. and that's the second thing
that's strange about him. in a store - a big mall - he's
whispering. and then the third strange thing: he keeps
looking around, like he's expecting something.|he takes my arm, a little roughly. "we need to go, ash."
i pull myself away from him and look him up and down.
"i don't know who you are. and i certainly don't know
where i ought to go with you."|"i don't have the time to explain just right now. but we
have to get going." his accent sounds like he's made it
belong here, but it sounds...older.|furtively, he looks around again. "i can feel him coming
closer, ash. he's looking for you and if he finds you,
he'll take you. and we can't afford for that to happen."|i am backing away from the man. i have no idea of who he
is, or what he wants, all i know is that i have to get away
from here now.
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[ii:first element of the puzzle, 1381]
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29 december, 1381, in the winter. a clarity of thought i
had not felt possible.|i do not know where to adequately begin describing what has
just happened. it is like...like a door just opened up and
i walked right through it, but the door, as far as i'm aware
was always there. it is all clear now. all black and white.|how we are when we are born, how we drift from the light of
faith to the dark of unbelief. how we come back. i have
never felt this clear on this issue before. never
understood how the issue could be so confusing for so many
others.|it is as if my mind is a blank slate, ready to be filled
with ideas. and, of course, in a way this is true. in a
way, i have inherited the greatest gift of all gifts. the
gift of bringing happiness and joy to all people. the gift
of giving. and i do not plan to squander that, but...i
wish others would see with the clarity i see.|he came for me at night. as i stood looking over the fine
violin i was going to buy my sister. i was too poor to
afford it, but it was such a beautiful work of art - and it
was so suited for her, that i couldn't resist looking.|and as i looked from the violin to the old man playing it,
i realized that i could have it. that it could be mine.
his big hands gave it over to me and let me feel the weight
of it - the heft of it. and his voice - low and pleasant,
said, "you don't need to pay for it now. not until
tomorrow evening."|i shook my head and gave it back. i couldn't possibly pay
for it. there was no way i could even begin to afford it,
but he insisted. "it won't cost you very much."|afraid that he was swindling me, i looked up at him and
asked, "how much is not very much?"|"dinner," he said.|"one dinner?"|he nodded. "a singular dinner. a veritable feast."|"i don't have much that could be qualified as veritable."|he laughed then. "i wouldn't say that. there is plenty to
be had if you know where to look. i know where to look.
take it. may it bring you and your sister joy."|and with that, he was gone.|and - of course - the violin was in my hands. large as
life and now very terrifying.
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[iii:the cab ride, father comes knocking]
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[date:thirteen may, two thousand and six]
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hairs prickling up my neck, i look the stranger over. he's
older than me. heavier, too. i still can't shake the
feeling that he's from some other time.|"look," he says, "i can help you understand, but it's going
to take too long to explain unless you believe me. and
every second you don't believe me is another second he
comes."|"who is this...he?"|he looks around again - looking for someone - something.
"he..." i think he's going to actually tell me, but then he
backs off. "i can't. not here. not now."|"then, if you can't tell me who he is, you don't have me
convinced to go with you."|he looks into my eyes - it's just a second, but it's as if
he's looking right through me.|"fine. then we'll do this the hard way. you were seven
when you watched the dog die. it was on the side of a road
and you didn't know who to call. it was early morning and
there was mist everywhere. mist and blood. your house was
over the road, but it seemed so far away as the dog bled to
death on the pavement."|but he needn't have said a word. the memories had stirred
in me when he looked into my mind - the awful, numbing pain
of watching the dog - my heavy rucksack on my back, the
scent of it...things i could never forget.|i look down at the ornament i'm hodling in one hand. it's
too expensive, anyway. i could never afford it. even if
it was the most intricate thing i'd ever seen. a dragon of
dark, treated wood. claws sunk into the base of the wood
it was standing on.|"where are we going?" i ask - there seems no point in
delaying anymore.|"there aren't many places he can't go. he seems to be
thinking - my...brother didn't believe. and his house
wasn't far from here - if..."|i don't want to complete the sentence. if his brother's
house still exists. if there isn't someone already living
there. if...|"is there no way you can check that your brother is still
there?"|he shrugs. "all we can do is check."|"how is it that you can see inside my head with such
clarity, but you don't know if your brother is still in
his own house?"|"not...everything is clear to me as you are."|and with that, he takes my arm and leads me out into the
winter. as he leads me off to a taxi he has waiting - i
can't think about how long it's been waiting - i see the
snow begin to fall. the temperature drops a little bit
and i contemplate the fire, and my pipe. it is not a good
day to be out. as he bundles me into the car, he looks
around again - and this time his gaze stops. on the
corner, outside the mall is a large man, a man who seems to
be unaffected by the cold. he is vast and his hair streams
down in silver waterfalls on either side of his head. his
beard cascading down his vast front, one large hand holding
something in the light...the dragon. he is holding the
dragon. he lifts it up so that my friend outside of the
car can see it. then, he just grins. it's not even a
subtle grin.|my friend looks a little shaken as he gets into the taxi.
"twenty seven surrey road. as fast as you can, please,"
he tells the driver. the driver nods and puts the car
into drive - and we speed off. almost as soon as we are
moving, he presses a button and the screen that seperates
the driver from the passengers comes up.|"you don't know me because i ceased to exist some sixty
years ago. if my timing is correct."|"what time do you remember last?" i ask.|he closes his eyes - he seems to be thinking. "the last
paper i saw said twenty seven december, nineteen fifty
six."|"do you know what day it is now?"|he shrugs. "november. maybe late october."|this is nearly accurate. "two thousand and eight."|he nods. "yes. that seems right."|"right...in what way?"|"he needs....to subsist. and he can do that for about
sixty or seventy years, but the ritual - the circle has
to be completed. he's the great giver, but to give, he
has to take. so he takes in small amounts, here and
there. but he can't just take at random. he has to take
with some kind of purpose."|"who is...he?"|he shrugs again. "to name him is to invite him. i have
no plan - no good way to fight him. so i cannot name him.
i got away - and it's my intention that you get away as
well, but right now, as of this moment, i have no plan
for helping you to escape, but you saw him...you should
know."|"all i saw...really, was a large, very bearded man holding
the gift i was going to buy for someone else."|"he didn't buy it. it's his, by right, to take. he is
the great giver. he'd be passing it on to someone else."|my blood runs cold - i remembe that grin. "he'd...pass it
on to me?"|"yes. and he'd demand payment."|"and payment...?"|"payment would be a dinner. a feast."|"but..."|"he'd be feasting on you."
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his name - when i eventually pry it out of him - is kevin.
kevin's brother lives on a street full of very large houses.
houses that were built before zoning laws set in. long
before plots skyrocketed and the earth was overpopulated.|from the outside, the house looks incredible. impossibly
large, impossibly ornate. "he lived here..." he doesn't
finish the sentence. it seems to me that kevin can feel
the tangible abscense of his brother as we get closer. he
describes it as a void. a place where his brother was, but
now isn't.|"so now what?"|"the old man who lives here now - he doesn't believe
either."|"how do you know?"|"because he shows up as a hole on his...map...of humanity.
he can see into those that do believe. he can't see
into those that don't."|i nod. this makes about as much sense as anything else.
getting out of the taxi, i'm surprised to see that he has
money and that he knows how to pay the driver.|when i begin to ask the question, he shakes his head at
me, imperceptibly.|out in the cold of winter, his beard has begun to be flaked
with soft snowflakes which contrast with his greying beard
and large frame. as the taxi speeds away from us he
answers: "some...frames of reference pass my way through
him. like your monetary system."|"it sounds like you're almost a conduit for his thoughts,"
i observe, as we walk down the snow-lined lane, and to the
door of the huge house - the old man having let us in.
this is subtle trickery i don't understand. kevin simply
fed the man a lie about being neighbourhood watch and the
man - andrew - believed him without a second word.|"some of them. yes. especially the ones pertaining to
you," he replies. "and some of his...power rubbed off on
me, i suppose, since i nearly escaped."|"but...if he can't see these people who don't believe on
his map, why could you influence this man?"|he grunts. "it's winter. people go...inward during
winter. they don't think of other people, they think
of themselves. they don't believe, they simply move
through."|we're approaching the door of the house as he's talking
and the old man's butler is there - waiting for us.|"when people are naturally defenseless like they are
during winter - when their minds are turned inwards,
it's a bit easier to influence them."|the butler takes our coats - he doesn't interrupt our
conversation as it flows. i don't know how kevin can
even keep talking after his near-silence to me all the
way here about this person that's hunting me down.|and then i realize - belatedly - that he hasn't moved
his lips at all. we've been having this conversation
inside of my mind. and this startles me more than
anything else.
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[date:fourteen may, two thousand and six]
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the man who owns the house eventually shows us to a small
room in the middle of the house - he sits us down and kevin
doesn't talk to him. instead, he asks him where the chess
board is - and he and i begin to play. it's a long, very
drawn out game. and somewhere into the endgame, the
doorbell rings.|kevin looks up at me - his blue, piercing eyes looking
right through me. "he's here."|and within seconds, the large, bearded man i'd seen at the
mall is standing with us - looking down at us - at the end-
game. a plump finger comes down and pushes the rook
forward two paces. his voice - when it comes, is very
deep. "i believe," he says, "that's check mate."
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[iv:second element of the puzzle, 1692]
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7 march, 1692, in the winter. dust settling into the mind's
eye. first and second guilts.|i have lived here for a little over three hundred years.
it doesn't feel like much time has passed for me and if it
wasn't for my trips into the world, i wouldn't know about
time slowly passing me by. but to me - to my...being, the
time doesn't seem to matter at all. the time is just...
it goes somewhere else.|but...this is not what's troubling me. what's troubling me
is the noise - the subtle motes of dust that infuse the way
i think. i no longer think clearly, or...in useful terms.
at least - not all the time. the little people tell me
that this is ordinary. they tell me that the course is a
long one. that it changes you - makes you something else.
and this might be a bit true, but...it might also be a bit
false. it is all a question of who you believe. or what
you believe.|i believe...i believe that the...men i hunt, that they
pass their minds to me - in some capacity. it must be so,
because i've asked some of them - some of the men - what
they do, before...and some of that information seems like
it passes directly into me - and my head - my head feels
as if it's fit to burst. all the knowledge rushing into
me all at once...makes it difficult to sort through my own
memories. i don't really even know where i end and
nicholas - because that is what they call me - begins
anymore. and this is my one guilt. i cannot remember
my sister. i remember her only because i wrote her name
down at the beginning of this diary, but i cannot remember
her.|this is my first guilt.|my second guilt...my second guilt is the ceremony.|the men i...hunt. the men i have to consume to keep going.
without them - without them i feel weak and not in control.
i've tried not hunting, and all it does is make me
disoriented, unable to do what i'm meant to do. and that's
not useful, because my job needs to get done, but their
voices - when they plead, sometimes as they kneel before
me...i can't take it.|but i don't know what else to do. i don't know how to stop
the cycle. i don't know how to not hunt.|i don't want this. please, let this cup pass from my lips.
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[v:winter expounded, the light on at the dark house]
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[date:fifteen may, two thousand and six]
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so.|it is a given that it is always winter somewhere.|and it is a given that for some nicholas exists as a kind
of force of nature. these pieces of the diary are only
pieces of the story. to understand the beginning of the
story, we need to go back to the beginning. to how the
mythos became real.|we have to start with where humanity comes from. and
humanity came from a fairly dark place. there was never
enough to go around. and even if that wasn't the case,
there were certainly a number of natural predators that
made it difficult for humans to move from hunter-gatherers
into hoarders.|the simplest expedient - the thing that helped them become
hoarders and thus go from ignoring a figure like nicholas
to absolutely needing one was the death of the dinosaurs.|you don't have to believe me - and of course, you probably
don't. and, really, that's ok. what's important is that
you understand that your species had to go from a state of
perpetual survival to a state of having too much.
naturally, this state didn't happen overnight. it took a
long, long time. and - of course - when the time came, you
didn't think of it as an opportunity. you thought of it as
a threat. if someone were to give - and give in abundance,
they couldn't give freely. something had to be taken as
well.|the first nicholas - a real man by the name of nicholas -
was - well - all the things you associate with him. he was
near the end of his lifespan, he was vast, he had silver
hair and a long beard. he was a toymaker and he had
children who helped him.|and your take on him?|you decided that he was going to hurt the children. so
you took from him. you stole his toys and you burnt down
his workshop. then you tied him up and lead him out to
die in the middle of the forest. but of course, things
have a way of coming back to haunt you. you tied him up
at twilight. and then you couldn't find your way back.
he died of exposure, but some of you died in...worse ways.
wolves tracking your scent and killing you.
bears mauling those the wolves didn't kill.
it wasn't your bravest night.|and out of that - well, nicholas giveth and nicholas
taketh away. and how do i know all this? if all i've
been doing is reading the journal - this diary - how do
i know this - why the winter exists - what nicholas is
presently doing - why he is out hunting?|well - that's more difficult to answer than it should be,
but this particular nicholas - this saint nick - coulnd't
help himself. some of this writing isn't his. it's not
in his style and it's not in his hand - and it certainly
isn't obvious. some of it starts where the journal entries
end. it looks like just ranting, but it can't be, because
when you connect it all together, when you read it just so,
it is the story of the string of men who were nicholas.|and he couldn't help himself.|around me, the house is dark - the only light here is the
light from the fire. i sit in the dark, the journal/diary
open on my lap and wonder.|i wonder if there's a cycle.
i wonder if it can be broken.
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[vi:an older hunt, deep within the forest]
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[date:sixteen may, two thousand and six]
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the boy didn't show up for dinner. this was to be expected.
i'd given him a violin - and - like any smart deer when it's
hunted, he understood that something wasn't right.|but i need him - some of the boys - some of them can slip
away. most of them never do, of course, but this one...
i need this one, because an older transaction - a far, far
older transaction needs to take place.|of course - i don't think any of this...coherently. at
this point, most of everything i think is bestial. i have
to stop myself from licking my lips as he's looking over
the violin. he doesn't just look good enough to eat, he's
smart too. and i know this, because i've been watching him
since the day he was born. his world doesn't have a word
for it yet - in the future, they might, but right now he's
just very clever. when it seemed like their water was
poisoned, he recognized the murkiness for what it was and
was bright enough to realize that straining the water would
clean it. a smart boy - a boy who was probably going to go
on to be a blacksmith, where his ample talents would be
wasted. possibly - at some point - when he got good at
smithing, he might make a toy for the children at
christmas, but not right now. right now, he was just
bright, sweet dane.|but he hasn't shown up tonight.|that feral part of me, the part that's mostly taken over
at this point wants to go over to his house, rip the front
door open and drag him right out of the cozy house he
shares with his sister and their mother.|and dane doesn't know about his sister. maybe if he knew,
he wouldn't be right here right now. but that's all going
to be part of hsitory soon.|i have to get him out tonight, because the power to go
between here and there is waning. so i have to find him.
and i have to have him.|there has to be a subtle way to lure him out. and while
i'm thinking about it, the answer literally walks right
across my path. his sister is beautiful, even in the
moonlight and through the dirt. i look her over and decide
immediately what i have to do.|"would you like me to walk with you, miss? it's such a
far way between the house and the well."|she's not really out to go to the well, of course. she's
only out because night is the only time she can see her
lover in private. and because it's dark enough and late
enough she can hide in the shadows. but she can't hide
from me. and she knows it. her whole body goes limp as
i direct her. i make sure that someone sees her - knows
that she's headed out - towards the forest. young ladies
aren't meant to go that way. i just hope this doesn't
attract the wrong prey.|i hear a man scurrying after her - and it takes nearly all
my willpower to wish him away. to wish him towards dane.
to make him go and fetch the boy. and of course, he does
obey. they usually do.|i am some of the way into the forest - not very deeply -
when i hear them start to come closer. this isn't hearing
as i would have described it from my time as a human, it's
more as if i'm feeling their proximity to me - and there
aren't many of them. i close my eyes. i can sense...two
of them. /and the boy is the other./|this is all i need.|quietly - getting close enough to him - close enough that
i can seperate him from the other man, i make sure that his
sister yells into the darkness, so he will come running.|he does come running - i can sense him get ever closer.
this is good - this is better than i'd hoped for. as i
feel him close the distance, i pull her before me and make
sure that he can see. when he comes through, i'm hoping
that - at least for a few short seconds, that's all he'll
see. and that is all he sees - he runs towards her, right
into the glade, and reaches out for her, but she isn't
really there - at least - not right now. and when he
touches her, his hand stays tightly stuck - like ice in
winter sticking to a surface. he looks bewildered -
frightened.|"you..." he near-whispers.|"yes. me."|and then, because i know he's going to scream, i do the
only thing i can - i let go of his sister and slide my hands
up against him - picking him up - his eyes go wide - huge,
as he watches me pull him up close. when his sister manages
to get away from my sphere of influence, she looks back and
screams. it doesn't take long for the man to find us -
he's large - a typical lumberjack.|he sees me slide the boy's head into my mouth - and for a
brief second, that's all he sees - suddenly, neither i, nor
the boy are there anymore. we have gone.
------------------------------------------------------------
[vii:an altar, faith and reason given voice]
------------------------------------------------------------
[date:sixteen may, two thousand and six]
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kevin looks up at him - it is impossible to tell what's
going through his mind, but what comes out of his lips is
something *i* didn't expect.|"please, nicholas. he's done nothing to you."|"but it is part of the ritual. and you know that it is -
having escaped it."|"even if it is. even if that's true, this boy has done
nothing to you."|"but he is necessary."|this conversation happens in whispers around the chess
board. the old man who owns the house seems to accept,
on faith, that this man is another part of the watch. i
have a difficult time with this - it's all so clear as
day to me. |there seems to be a moment, a really brief moment where
nicholas changes - becomes softer, more jovial. "where
he's going to it'll always be christmas."|it all slips into place. it is unbelievable. irrational,
but it is all true. "this man...this is saint nicholas.
this is santa claus?"|kevin nods. "yes. and he has been hunting you."|"he has -" i stop. "kevin, would you think about what
you're saying for a second. you're telling me that this
man is an incarnation of a myth. and that the myth, who
is jolly and happy and giving is hunting me down."|this time, it isn't kevin that nods. "that's about the
gist of it," the man named nicholas says.|i look from the one to the other. "you are both crazy."
and i begin to walk away from both of them.|and then some force slams me from behind, but when i
stagger to my knees and look behind me, they're both still
standing there, quietly.|"the reason," nicholas begins, and i know exactly what he's
going to say - it's all in my head. every word. "the
reason you don't like women is because you prefer men. and
not just any men, but older, bearded, hairy, well-fed men."
i am still on my knees when he delivers the next part.
"you have had a...crush on a myth for the better part of
your whole life."|it is eleven years ago.
i am nineteen.
the man sitting in the chair is dressed up as santa.
"and what would you like for christmas, boy?"
i can't answer. he has pushed my head down between his
thighs.|it isn't always like this, of course, but it is a fantasy
that plays itself out in the back of my head sometimes.
and this man - nicholas - he is entirely right. i have
sought a man exactly like him for the better part of my
whole life. i have started to become like him in the
second half of my life. my expanding middle, my penchant
for a pipe. my love of sweet foods. my long hair. my
beard.|nicholas walks over to me, puts a heavy paw on my shoulder.
"it's alright, boy. everyone has fantasies."
and with that, he reaches into his coat. "i have something
for you. something for you to give to leo."|"no..." kevin whispers. "please don't...."
i watch as nicholas turns his head - he isn't jovial at all
anymore. a silver eyebrow is arced, staring at kevin,
daring him to come forward. to intercept the gift.|and kevin does.|"you take me instead. you meant to take me in the first
place. let this gift be the altar on which my sacrifice is
made."|"you made your sacrifice years ago, boy. now, step back.
this is not for you," nicholas growls.|the large hand holds the wooden dragon out to me.|"i can't..."|"you must," he says. "it's the greatest gift you will
ever give."|i can't help myself. i can't stop myself as i reach
forward and touch the incredibly well-crafted dragon.
but then, at that instant, something very strange happens
and i see kevin barreled forward, hand outstretched, thick
fingers just touching the surface of the gift at the same
time i do.|the world goes black.
------------------------------------------------------------
you humans have entirely the wrong idea about faith and
reason.|you think that faith is when you believe somethinhg so
strongly that it leaves no room for anything else. and
you think of reason as what happens when you abandon faith.
when you decide that everything has to be rational and
bounded by the laws of physics and space and time and
all that other mathematical folderol.|you fail to notice schroedinger's cat in a corner, provably
true by all accounts. yet you never add one and one
together. in order for reason to work at all, you have to
have faith.|that's exactly right. i can see that you're confused by
that, and that's exactly as it should be. you tend to
tear faith from reason. like they're two totally
seperate streams of thought.|"if i reason the world to be just so, there is no need for
faith."|or:|"if i believe the world to be just so, there is no room for
reason."|it is clear that you all need a kick in the shins. nothing
is as clear cut as that. and this is how you fail to
understand how mythos are important and how history repeats
itself over and over again.|i understand - you don't grasp what the message of nicholas
really is - you decided that it was a day to spend a lot of
money on a bunch of trinkets and to pass those around to
your children and loved ones, but you fail to see the true
meaning behind the act. that the giving is selfless - that
the most important part of the act is intent. it is like
faith and reason. you understand that if you give, you
will get. and you understand that getting is - for some of
you - better than giving, but they're one and the same.
like faith and reason, it's a complete transaction. you
can't have the one without the other.|and this - of course - is what makes me think that the act
of nicholas hunting - the act of him taking young men and
making them a part of himself is a cycle. it has to be. it
is a complete transaction. nicholas giveth and nicholas
taketh away. but he can only take in small amounts. token
amounts, you might call them. just enough to complete the
transaction.|so there has to be a way to undo this cycle.
------------------------------------------------------------
[part iii:winter revisited, the hardest thing is choice]
------------------------------------------------------------
[date:eigteen may, two thousand and six]
------------------------------------------------------------
they all arrive at the same time.|nicholas and the two other big men - all three holding onto
a wooden statue. i've seen one of them before. i have to
think about it for a second, before his name shows up in my
mental list of the earth's children. kevin. the other
one...the other one felt different. a feeling i couldn't
describe. i knew his name - his name was ash - ashentaine,
but i didn't know why he was here. keith i remembered from
before - and something clicks. one of the journal entries,
sixty years ago. nicholas can't remember his sister's name,
so he writes down every other name. this is the one that
got away.|"i think..." i begin - "i think it would be best if we
started at the very beginning." - nicholas is standing
there with wide open eyes - having seen me for the first
time in a long, long while.|"you're the one...the one who cleans my rooms."|i nod. "i am. and i have a name. you do too, but you've
forgotten yours."|nicholas closes his eyes, "sam. you're sam," he says,
confidently. i nod. he does know who i am.|"what do you remember first?"|he blinks - this is not the question he was expecting from
the one who cleaned his chamberpots and emptied out his
glasses of wine.|"i..." and then a scowl across his face, "what does it
matter?"|"it matters. it matters a great deal," i slide out of the
chair and put the journal in his hands. "what do you
remember first?"|"i..." - he shakes his head - "i remember the first time
i was here."|"you wrote more. you remember more." and i show him the
first entry.|"but...what does this matter now?"|"it matters, because i think i might have thought of a way
to break the cycle."|nicholas looks at me - "you've..."|"yes. but you need to understand both faith and reason,
first."|kevin and ash are watching this conversation, not really
sure of what's going on. finally kevin works up the
nerve to ask.|"faith...and reason?"|"faith and reason. reason to know that there was a time
before he became nicholas and faith to find his way back
to it."|"but i *can't* go back to it. it's gone."|"you just stepped out of it. you can go back, but there
is one thing you need to do before you go."|"how...how did you work all this out?"|this - of course - is one of those easy to answer and
difficult to explain questions. i worked it out by reading
his journal - but a lot of it was reading between the lines,
something he couldn't do, because he was connected to his
own writing by faith and not reason. "it doesn't matter.
it only matters that i've found an answer."|"...and what do o i have to do?"|i look at kevin. this isn't going to be easy. this is
going to have to be a choice he makes, not nicholas.|"kevin...you need to go through with your part of the
bargian - your part of the offering from sixty years ago."|"but..." - i can see the fear in his eyes - if he goes, he
will not come back again.|"no - you won't come back, but you will go elsewhere."|and this - again - is easy to answer, but difficult to
explain. none of my reading between the lines adequately
explained where he would go. it might be heaven and it
might very well be hell - but i have no way of telling
which it'd be. and this matters, but it matters
abstractly. in the way chaos theory matters. it matters,
but it...isn't measurable.|"what will happen if i make the exchange?"|"this is what i think will happen - this is what i have
faith in. you will go elsewhere, and..." it falls into
place - reason-place - "ash will take the place of
nicholas, but he'll start from scratch - he will start
without having hunted - he will never need to hunt, he
will be a pure giftbringer."|i can see it in kevin's eyes. he no longer fits in the
world - he can't go back to it. even his brief time back
in the world that ash inhabited was painful - difficult.
his eyes betray what he is going to do, even before he
says it.|nicholas sees it too. and before kevin can change his
mind, he is there, standing up against him. i read -
somewhere - that if he'd lived, he would have liked men
like kevin for various reasons, and his hunger shows
through. the last hunting entry of significance - 1999,
i couldn't really even read - the lines were scralwed in
all kinds of writing - and i understood the significance
of this particular act - the thousands of voices, the men
he'd hunted - were inside him, overwhelming his rational
thoughts. and right now, it is that completely irrational
monster i see on the surface. i have never been here when
he's hunted - i had no idea of the men he would bring back
to the winter and consume, but now i am seeing it first
hand as he opens his mouth wide and slides kevin's head
into it. kevin is terrified - he'd been through this once
before and survived, but now, now it was different - now he
had to give himself over to the monster - and some part of
him probably didn't want to.|it no longer matters. before kevin can really even make an
adequate response, nicholas has slid down his neck,
collaring him. his thick hands exploring the sides of the
big man, his lips sliding over him. kevin's hands come up
to push away from nicholas, but all that happens is that a
big hand wraps around his fingers, squeezing him tightly
and holding him tight. not getting away. not this time.|ash is watching this and hasn't reacted up until right now,
but with a speed i hadn't thought possible, he is moving
towards the pair, trying to break them apart. nicholas'
eyes flick open - it is a warning - his eyes are hard and
dark and not like the ones i look into, day after day.
there is something terrifying there and it stops ash dead.|nicholas makes his way down the front of kevin - and with
a strength i never realized he had, he rips open the shirt
and pants of the helpless man. kevin is very nearly naked
in the winter. fortunately, this time, he's indoors and
he is headed into the warmest place imaginable. it is
impossible to watch this happen and yet it does. i have to
remind myself - it is faith. it is reason.|kevin's chest is next to go into nicholas' mouth. one hand
reaches behind kevin - guiding him upwards - inwards. i'm
not really surprised at all to see that nicholas is erect
in this act. in the nearly one thousand years he's been
doing it, it must have become erotic to some degree,
pleasurable, even.|ash is standing there, his mouth open, horror written
across his face as he realizes that nicholas is tasting
kevin. that he is literally feeding on him. he is making
happy grunting noises as he takes kevin down - his large
waist being problematic, but somehow, through gentle
wriggles and slow inhaling, nicholas makes his way ever
downward. at this point, there isn't much left of kevin
outside of the baerded lips anyhow - just two thick legs
and blue underwear. the rest of nicholas is swelling out
with the incoming cargo. he is humping the air.|ash is looking on, he is terrified - weeping, even, but
there is nothing he can do. those eyes have stopped him -
put him in his place. and i realize that this is precisely
right. the world does not need a giver who is angry and
terrifying.|something terribly feral takes over as nicholas finally
slides the underwear down and throws them across the room.
it is unhappy coincidence that they end up in the fire -
burning up. the last anyone will ever see of kevin in
this world.|kevin is kicking - faintly, i can hear him screaming and
sobbing as well - but nicholas let him go once. he isn't
going to do it again. and with one slurp and his hips
bucking powerfully, he makes most of kevin vanish and re-
appear in his very vast gut.|nicholas' eyes are wide open - he has lost the ability to
reason completely. he is all faith. it is now or never.|"emily. your sister's name was emily."|he tries saying the word, but his mouth is filled with the
last of kevin - two plump feet sticking out of his bearded
lips. and then, these vanish as well.|"dane - i know you're in there, and you need to say her
name. you need to do it now."|he chokes the word out, finally looking down at his hands,
as if seeing himself for the first time - and then he
slides down to his knees. his belly full and round from
kevin - the man squirming and crying inside him. and there,
for that brief second, he is completely dane.|"what have i done?"|"it doesn't matter," ash says. only, he isn't ash anymore.
he is something broader, wider, more sure of himself.
"her name is emily," he says, kneeling down, "you should
go to her. she's waiting for you."|and with tears streaming down his face, dane vanishes.
------------------------------------------------------------
[epilogue:summer]
------------------------------------------------------------
it's always summer somewhere.|and sometimes, in the summer, if you look just right, you
can see him sitting, looking out to the ocean, seeing the
world for the first time. he is'nt difficult to miss - he
is vast, and bearded, and more sure of himself than he was
before. he is more home now - more like his old friend leo
than he could ever have imagined. but that was over two
thousand years ago, and a lifetime away.
------------------------------------------------------------
[author's note]
------------------------------------------------------------
this story more-or-less developed while i wasn't looking.|the first person i probably have to thank for most of the
skeleton of the story is cubdom. he gave me much of the
inspiration for what became the backbone of the santa claus
mythos. the way their minds fill up - the way there needs
to be changeover every thousand years - that they devour
other men to obtain their memories and the way they do
things.|the real reason this story came about was because there was
a man online called "fatsanta" who made me think. i hadn't
written a story in so long...and i'd read at least one
other santa story - so why not build onto that. besides,
santa, as an erotic ideal is something i've been carrying
along with me for years.|so those are the two inspirations for the story. and,
really, the story mostly explains itself, so there is very
little i need to add.|about the only thing i will add is that kevin is safe -
for those wondering.|lostwolfe,
eleven may, two thousand and six to eighteen may, two
thousand and six.
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[copyright notice]
------------------------------------------------------------
this text copyright (c) 2006 julian comley, nicodemus
caine, greywolfe and lostwolfe]|commentry and criticism can be left at -->
greywolfe@new.co.za. |if you would like to publish this work of fiction, feel
free to send me email. chances are i won't refuse, as
long as you ask. |thankyou for reading this text file.
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The End